


Fathers and Sons

by BlueEyedBadger



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drama & Romance, Family Drama, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedBadger/pseuds/BlueEyedBadger
Summary: Halward Pavus made a mistake that shattered his life and Dorian's as well. But with war looming on the horizon and Dorian bravely taking a stand with the Inquisitor, Halward knows he must repair his relationship with his son before it is too late. But he has his own demons to wrestle with- demons that may keep them apart forever if Halward does not find the strength to defeat them.





	1. Redcliffe

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Magister Pavus gets a bad rap in Inquisition and rightly so; he did a terrible thing by attempting to 'change' Dorian. However, I challenge you to find someone who's a perfect parent and when fear overrides common sense, things can easily escalate out of control. So this one is for the imperfect parents who still love their children, and anyone who's ever made a mistake they wished they could take back.

Fathers and Sons

“You’ve been staring at that picture for hours…”

                Halward Pavus looked up as his wife entered the library.  “I didn’t think you would miss me enough to notice, Aquinea.” He replied with mild sarcasm.

                “I didn’t.” She replied frostily. “A raven came for you. From Skyhold.”

                He accepted the rolled piece of parchment from her hand and cracked the seal. “You could have sent one of the slaves. Could it be that you’re as worried about Dorian as I am?”

                “I have worried about Dorian from the second _you_ forced him away.   _I_ could have made him see reason, but you had to stuff your wounded pride down his throat.”

                It was an old argument and one Halward was infinitely wearied of, so instead of replying he perused the document. “Dorian has agreed to the meeting.”

                For just a moment, a relieved smile lit Aquinea Pavus’s face. It lightened some of the bitterness from her expression and Halward was reminded of the vibrant young woman he had married all those years ago. Before the babies. Before Alexius. Before Dorian. “Thank the Maker.”

                “Yes. Mother Giselle warns us that the Inquisitor is a very honest man. He refused to trick Dorian into coming, but he agreed anyway. She did say that the fabrication of the ‘family retainer’ is intact.”

                “Excellent. I’ll have the slaves pack my things now…”

                Halward cut her off, “You’re not coming.”

                Aquinea narrowed her eyes. “Just try to stop me, Halward Pavus.”

                “It’s not a matter for debate.” Halward stated firmly. “I need to move quickly and quietly…two things you aren’t capable of. Not to mention that it will be exceedingly dangerous. There’s war in Thedas, just in case you haven’t noticed.”

                “Don’t patronize me.” She hissed. “I’m perfectly capable…”

                “Why this overwhelming desire to see Dorian now?” He cut her off. “You were perfectly willing to let him walk away without a word before. Do you think he’ll be any happier to see you than he will be to see me?”

                Halward knew it was a low blow, and he didn’t care.  He had his own reasons for wanting to see his wayward son and none of them could happen with Aquinea breathing poison into Dorian’s ear.  The words had the desired effect- Aquinea shot him a venomous look before turning on her heel and stalking toward the door.  She couldn’t resist a parting shot.

                “At least I didn’t use my power to try and destroy him.”

Halward deserved that, he knew. It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t tortured himself with frequently, so he was able to let her stalk away with her supposed victory. Instead, he picked up the picture again. It was painted the day Dorian graduated top of his class from the Academy in Minrathous. Halward could barely recognize himself standing so tall and proud next to his brilliant, handsome son. He ran his fingers over the image of Dorian’s face once more before standing decisively. He had plenty of things to take care of without mourning over the past.  He placed the picture on his desk and walked out without a backward glance.  


.:*:.

                 It was all falling apart. From the second Dorian walked into the Gull and Lantern, Halward could tell he was in for a fight.  He tried to get a word in edgewise, but Dorian was spitting accusations at him like the venom of a particularly deadly cobra.  Each word out of his son’s mouth struck hard and fast and burned like acid.

And the worst part was- every single word was true.

Halward would never admit it but he was actually glad of the Inquisitor’s presence. The Dalish mage projected an aura of quiet strength that Dorian seemed to respond to. “Dorian,” The Inquisitor said as Dorian withdrew after his tirade about Halward’s sins, “Don’t leave it like this. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

                Halward could have embraced the man, elf or not. He was under no illusion that it was by his support alone that Dorian was still there. And for some reason, despite knowing the judgment Halward had passed on his son, he was urging him to stay and attempt to mend their relationship. Much to Halward’s surprise Dorian did turn back, his mirror-grey eyes still drowning in hurt. “Tell me why you came.” He demanded.

                “If I had known that I would drive you to the Inquisition…”

                “You _didn’t_ ,” Dorian’s voice was saturated in anguish. Halward wanted to reach forward, gather him into his arms just as he did the time Dorian had fallen out of the lime tree as a child and broken his arm. He wanted to soothe his pain, even as he knew that he had caused it, but he didn’t dare move.  “I joined the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do. Once, I had a father who understood that.”

                That was it. The final blow. Halward felt his heart contract sharply at the contempt in Dorian’s words. Dorian turned to go, his hand almost on the latch of the door before Halward found his voice.

“Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed.” Halward was not taught to display his feelings. His own father had been a taciturn man, barely acknowledging his children except to criticize, to push them to do better, or to remind them of their duty. Every word felt like lead on his lips and sounded to his ears like the words of a simpleton but for once in his life Halward Pavus was beyond caring. He could NOT let his son-his precious boy, repository of all Halward’s hopes and dreams- walk out that door without letting him know how he really felt. Not again. Not ever again. “I only wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice again…to ask him to forgive me.”

He didn’t really expect it to work, but to his surprise Dorian stopped and glanced back. The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, the expression in his ruby eyes encouraging, and nodded before moving toward the door. He set his hand gently on Dorian’s shoulder and spoke a word of reassurance before taking his leave. Dorian watched the Inquisitor go, face softened into an expression that Halward knew all too well….

_“I’m concerned about Dorian.”_

_Halward looked up from the letter he was writing. “Why is that, Aquinea?”_

_“He spends far too much time with that new slave boy. Rien, I think his name is. I think there’s something going on there.”_

_“Then why don’t you confront him about it?”_

_“I have. He says it’s nothing. Besides,” Aquinea’s expression darkened. “You know far more about that…particular predilection than I do.”_

_Halward sighed. She was correct, even if the knowledge was meant to hurt him. “I’ll take care of it.”  He reassured her._

_Dorian was a brilliant child but he was an open book. So sure of his place and abilities, he had never learned to conceal his emotions. Halward spent all of two days quietly watching his son before he decided that Aquinea had been correct. There was a certain…softness…in his son’s expression when looking at the slave boy that made Halward wary. It became even clearer when he walked into Dorian’s room unannounced one day and found them both in various stages of undress, all exploring lips and roaming hands._

_“Father!” Dorian noticed him first and broke off with a gasp of unpleasant surprise. Rien just dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, terrified. He hadn’t been with the family long, so he had no idea what to expect. Dorian scrambled to the end of the bed, “It’s not his fault, father…I made him…”_

_“Hush, Dorian.” Halward gave a quiet sigh and motioned the slave boy up. “Get your clothes and go.”_

_The boy wasted no time in obeying. Halward handed Dorian a shirt, which he quickly put on. “Let us sit on your balcony for a moment.”_

_“It was nothing, father.” Dorian attempted to reassure, but his voice was dangerously close to babbling. “It was just an experiment, I swear...”_

_“Dorian. You are not in trouble.”_

_“I’m…not?”_

_“Of course not. Do you think you are the first to gain your experience from a favored slave?” Halward spoke so matter- of- factly that some of the tension went out of Dorian’s shoulders. “It’s perfectly natural that a boy your age would be curious.”_

_“Then…you’re not going to punish Rien?”_

_“No, Dorian. Rien is safe.”_

_Dorian sighed in relief. “Thank you, father. I’m sorry…”_

_“Don’t be sorry. I’m certain that you will act in a_ discreet _manner appropriate for a man of House Pavus from here on out.”_

_“Yes, sir.” Dorian replied automatically. His grey eyes were still shadowed, but Halward attributed it to embarrassment. For just a moment, Halward was reminded of a similar conversation he had had with his own father, but he pushed the thought away. The old bastard was dead and he would make sure Dorian never had to suffer what he had. He patted Dorian on the shoulder as he rose to go._

_“Enjoy your dalliances if you must, Dorian, but do take care to let them_ remain _dalliances. I know that you understand your duty to your family.”_

_“Yes, father.” It cost Dorian to say those words. Halward felt a pang of remorse for his son, but there was nothing he could do. It was the way it was, the way it had been for him and his father and presumably his grandfather before him. The future of House Pavus rested squarely on Dorian’s young shoulders, as unfair as it was. Halward had no doubt that his brilliant son could handle the pressure…_

“Father…father.” Halward snapped back to the present. Dorian was standing before him, looking at him with questioning eyes, waiting for him to take the lead. Waiting…and hopefully willing…to talk. Halward had to fight the urge to place his hand on Dorian’s shoulder; instead, he motioned up the stairs to his room.


	2. The Fade

                Magister Pavus sat on the edge of his bed in the small tavern and wearily removed his boots. As overjoyed as he was that Dorian was willing to talk to him, it had not been an easy conversation. There was still too much hurt, and too much time spent nursing that hurt. But it had been a start. Dorian had even laughed once.

                Dorian had always loved to laugh.

                He didn’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly he was in the Fade. Halward had been trained in the art of lucid dreaming but even he was surprised at what the Fade decided to show him. He was young, in his prime. The young Halward was pacing the floor of his bedroom, sending a steady stream of encouragement to his wife who was surrounded by healers and laboring in great pain on the bed. One last great push, a scream that could shatter glass, and the healer was holding a baby in his arms.

                “A son, my lord!” He said above the relieved laughter of Aequina Pavus, “You have a son…”

The scene drained the life out of him but Halward was paying enough attention to see the hazy, green-hued spectre that was trying to stay carefully out of his line of vision. “Be gone, demon.” Halward commanded, straightening his back and taking care not to let his weariness show. “You have no place here.”

                “I am no demon,” The apparition said. It solidified into an unmistakable figure- white hair, red eyes, pointed ears, a Dalish vallaslin curling tendrils up over his left eye.

 The Inquisitor.

                “Spirit, then.” Halward corrected himself. He could feel that the apparition was telling the truth; he was no demon. “Of course, you would take the form of my son’s lover to judge me.”

                “I’m not here to judge,” He replied. “I am here to understand. Maybe even to help.” The spirit-Inquisitor’s face softened as he looked back at the scene. Young Halward was sitting on the side of the bed, examining the tiny baby in his wife’s arms with breathless wonder. They smiled at each other, connected in happiness, and the spirit wearing the Inquisitor’s face also smiled. “Is that Dorian?”

                “No,” Halward also looked, dark eyes shadowed. “This is Cato. He would have been Dorian’s older brother.”

                “ _Would_ have been?”

                “Yes. He died soon after birth. As did his sister and brother after him.” Halward closed his eyes. “This moment…it may be the only time my wife ever truly loved me. I know it was the only time I have ever loved her.”

The Inquisitor didn’t reply but Halward wasn’t looking for sympathy. He swiped his hand through the air.  The scene dissolved but almost immediately reformed into a similar one, with one very distinct difference- the baby was fighting and crying his ebony-curled head off as he was placed in his mother’s arms. “ _This_ is Dorian.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Of course it is.”

They both watched as Halward reached down to take his son. Aquinea Pavus didn’t seem pleased about it, but Halward was not taking no for an answer. As he was lifted into his father’s arms, Baby Dorian almost immediately stopped wailing and opened his startlingly light blue eyes. He must have liked what he saw because he closed them again with a contented yawn and settled to sleep against Halward’s chest.

“He was such a beautiful child...” Halward said, almost to himself.

“He’s a beautiful man.” The Inquisitor replied firmly. “And a brilliant mage.”

“Yes. He always had to be at my side, and like as not asking questions. Always ‘what’s that, papa?’, ‘how did you do that papa?’, and his favorite…’show me how, papa!’.”

As Halward spoke, the Fade changed to fit his words. First there was Young Dorian, a little unsteady on his toddling feet, ambling happily about the library and eagerly pulling out every book he could reach before offering it to his father. Then a bit older, his face already losing some of its baby roundness, watching with wide, wondering eyes as Halward made a mini-blizzard dance on his palm. And then teenage Dorian had his own staff and was frowning in concentration at a small target some 100 yards away. The air crackled, lightning struck and the target splintered with explosive force. Dorian whirled around, his dusky face lit in an ecstatic grin. “I did it, father! I did it!”…

“So,” The Inquisitor asked as the Fade settled into its normal green tinged haze. “What changed?”

“I did.” Halward said simply. “I forgot what it was like to be a young man all full of dreams and hope. I lost myself in ambition and duty and pride…and lost my son.”

“Why?”

The Fade tried to answer for him. It formed into the image of a handsome older man with a face that bore more resemblance to Dorian than Halward, if Dorian had been steeped in arduous duty and suppressed anger his entire life. An even younger Halward than in the scene with Cato stood on the rich carpet, fists clenched in fury.  He was railing at the man in Tevene, but even if the Inquisitor had been able to understand it wouldn’t have mattered. Halward froze the image with a wave of his hand.

“That’s the problem, yes, but not the beginning.” The image faded and reformed. A bustling courtyard, tropical flowers growing on every available surface. Children and teenagers in mage’s robes frozen in motion, some excited, some (mostly the younger ones) looking apprehensive. An aristocratic young man in black robes- Halward himself- stood on magnificent marble stairs, arm outstretched, clearly attempting to direct the flow. “It was my fifth year in the Circle in Quarinus….”

_“First years to the right!” Halward’s voice commanded authoritatively. “Form ranks around Dacimus.” A young, rather nervous looking boy in blue robes raised his hand high and tried to look competent as Halward’s eye fell on him._

_“First years here,” His voice cracked a bit but Halward ignored it. Dacimus had always been a little mouse._

_“Second years, you’ll be in Victus Tower this year, third years to Sanguis. Rooming assignments are posted in the entry. And for gods’ sake, Gaius, take a bath once in a while this year! Your socks cast a stronger repel spell than you do.” Laughter rippled through the group, none louder than Gaius himself.   Halward raised his voice even louder to be heard above it. “Lucan! Aethus!” Two young men detached themselves from the crowd. “Take your kids and quit blocking traffic!”_

_“Second years!” The shorter boy in green commanded with a sprightly grin. The boy in red said “Third years” almost as if he were bored. Halward made a mental note. If Aethus was going to be apathetic toward his position as prefect, then he didn’t need the job- or the special privileges that came with it._

_“If you’re a girl-_ by birth not by action, Alcinder! _\- you’ll go with Thalrassian.” A girl with heavy, dark hair and velvety blue eyes detached herself from Halward’s right.  
                “I’ll speak for myself, Prefect Pavus. Thank you.” She said firmly.  She was the same age as Halward, but she spoke as though she was his grandmother. It had gotten worse ever since the rumors that Halward’s father was becoming very friendly with the Thalrassian family’s patriarch, a move that almost always ended in the eldest children being married.  _

_Halward swept his arm out with a bow that would have been respectful had it not been for the roll of the eyes that brought snickers from the boys who had seen it. The unwilling partnership-and more than occasional rivalry- between Aquinea Thalrassian and Halward Pavus was well known at the Circle.  She stepped forward as though she owned the world.  “Ladies, follow me.” She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t even look to see if she was being obeyed, just walked purposefully down the stairs and around the building. Every single female in the crowd followed her in a violet robed bunch._

_“Meow…” Someone called from the crowd. Halward raised his head and caught the eyes of a boy in black. The comment had been spoken very deliberately; loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to be ignored. Halward realized that he was being tested, as the boy watched him with eyes glittering amusement. Would he be reprimanded in front of the whole group? Or would Halward take his side?_

_“Fourth years, you’ll dorm in Tacitus Hall. Quartis is your prefect this year.” Hal didn’t even mention the fifths- if they hadn’t figured out where they were supposed to be by now, they deserved to get lost. “All right, you lot, move it.”_

_They moved. Halward made his way down into the press, coming to stand next to the new boy. “You’re Alexius?” Halward didn’t really know him. Alexius had studied in the Circle at Minrathous before transferring to Quarinus just this year. But the headmaster had told Halward to be on the lookout- the Alexius family was well known in the Magisterium._

_“Gereon.” The boy offered his hand._

_“We all call each other by our last names here.”_

_“Then, yes, I’m Alexius. What DO you do if people have brothers here?”_

_Halward stopped for a beat. No one had ever asked him that question before. “We have different colored robes for each of the years.”_

_“So, Blue Pavus, Red Pavus and hope to the gods you’re not a twin?”_

_Halward cracked a smile, and finally shook Alexius’s hand. “I think we’re going to get along just fine…”_


End file.
